


Lamia

by eag



Series: Fortunae Plango Vulnera [11]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Coma Doof warrior, Death, Drivers and Lancers, Friendship, Gen, Ghost Stories, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Morsov tells a ghost story, Nux and Slit, Other, Tran and Dart, War Boy Furiosa, War Boy Society, War Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eag/pseuds/eag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the open waste on the road to Bartertown, War Boys tell ghost stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lamia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geoduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geoduck/gifts).



As the wheel moon slipped behind the mountains, drawing over itself an obscuring veil of stone, the War Boys of the escort began to settle down around their cars, huddled around burning lanterns, a rare moment to rest and relax before winding down for sleep.

“Driver, is there anything else we need to do?” Furiosa drew the lantern back as Coil straightened up from his inspection of the engine, shutting the hood with a heavy thump.

“No. We're done here.” Coil waved her off. “Lancer, you're free to do as you like.”

“Huh?”

“Going to meet some mates.” Coil paused briefly. “Suppose you can come too, if you want.”

“Um...maybe not. I'll stay here.” It didn't seem to her that Coil wanted company, at least not hers. Ever since that first night they spent together in the car, the Driver seemed distant, difficult to gauge, and she wondered if it would be always like this between them, cool and impersonal.

There was a relief to the fact that it was all work and nothing else between them, but still she felt uncomfortable during those moments when it seemed that he could barely stand her presence.

“Fine. Whatever you want. Don't wait up for me.”

 

His shadow swinging jagged, the Ace found her sitting alone by the sputtering light of her lantern.

“What're you doing here by yourself?” The Ace wondered, setting his heavy lantern down on the pebbly ground. “You're not on guard duty, are you?”

“No. Just...” Furiosa shrugged. “Just resting.” She leaned her crossed arms against her bent knees, sighing.

“Where's your Driver?”

“Off with Tran and Dart. I think.”

“Didn't invite you?” The Ace's mouth tightened, and Furiosa quickly stood, hearing a threatening note of anger in his voice.

“No, no. Ace, it wasn't like that. He asked me to come but I...”

“Shouldn't be by yourself like this.” The Ace frowned. “We got boys on guard, but that don't mean a crewmate should be by themselves out here. Too dangerous to be alone. You should know that and so should he. Come on, we'll go find your Driver.”

“Ace, it's really not a big deal...” But Furiosa took a hold of her lantern and followed the Ace as his heavy footsteps stormed through the rasping gravel.

 

“So then the Lancer says, 'All right, I'll play your game. If it'll win back the soul of my cohort mate, I'll play any game.' And then the Devil--” Dart spoke quickly, excitedly.

“The Devil?” Coil asked.

“Yeah, you know. Pointy ears. Red neck. Lots of teeth.” Dart mimed with his fingers. “Looks kind of like the Bullet Farmer, but a lot taller and a lot meaner.”

“I have a hard time believing that such a man could exist, but all right...” Tran gestured. “Go on.”

“So then he starts playing this game with the Devil, trying to get the soul of his cohort mate, back from the land of darkness. Oh, that's called Gehenna and it's--”

“Sorry to interrupt, Dart, but what game would that be?” Coil wondered.

“Um, I don't know? Some kind of game...”

“You don't know?” Tran spoke with exaggerated emphasis, brows furrowed with disbelief. “Dart, this is a terrible story.”

“Um... a game. A game...lemme think. Fine, it's Botany Bay.”

“How's one Lancer gonna play Botany Bay against one Devil? You need two War Boys on each team to play. They can't possibly play against each other, one on one. Who's playing the Driver? Who's playing the Lancer? There's no one to carry the other on his shoulders. This is a ridiculous story--”

“Tran, you ruin everything!”

“War Boys.” The Ace cleared his throat, and suddenly all conversation stopped as surprised, the crewmates turned around to look up at the Ace. “Found me a stray Lancer. Thought this one might belong to someone here.” He gestured to Furiosa, who stepped forward sheepishly. Coil nodded curtly to her, and she came to sit by his side, setting the sputtering lantern down between them. With a mild huff of irritation, Coil leaned over to adjust the flame so that it burned steadily.

Furiosa glanced over at Coil cautiously; he wasn't looking at her, but Tran was giving Coil a sharp, angry scowl before schooling his expression to greet the Ace.

“Welcome to the telling, Ace. Please, have a seat.” Tran offered the Ace a spot beside him, pushing his Lancer back a little. “You're just in time to share a story, because Dart just finished his.”

“I'm not done, Tran!”

“Yes you are, Dart.” Tran kissed his Lancer's cheek affectionately, before setting his hand on the Ace's shoulder. “Thanks for finding the stray. Was wondering where her Driver had left her. Rather irresponsible of him, if I may say so. Out on the open waste, alone? That's nearly scandalous, the kind of thing that gets talked about among the sharp-tongued. It's a good thing you found her before someone unfriendly noticed.”

Furiosa winced, embarrassed for Coil to be dressed down like this before everyone by the older Driver.

“Tran, I don't need to hear this from you...” Coil moved to stand, but Tran pointed to Coil to sit. 

“Sit down, Coil. You can't leave now without being rude. After all, the Ace was just about to tell us a story, preferably one about ghosts. Isn't that right, Ace?”

“Well...” The Ace shrugged. “Dunno if there's much I can say.”

“Been around the Citadel a long time, since the beginning. Haven't you seen anything strange, heard anything strange?”

“Sure, of course. But when I think about ghosts, it ain't the Citadel that comes to mind. Not the waste either, though there's plenty of ghosts out here.” The Ace's eyes grew distant, thoughtful. “No, when I think about ghosts, I think about them days out west, when I was a boy.

“See, the town we lived in was from the old days, from Before. Long abandoned. Big flat piece of land, could see for miles around, and we were all alone out there, all us families. Back Before, the houses were built lined up all neat in a row, shoulder to shoulder and facin each other, built to last, keepin us warm when the wheel sun turned through the days and seasons, the long and the short.

“Us kids, we'd go around from house to house. Most of the ones still standin were empty; there weren't enough of us to be livin in all of 'em and you could almost imagine what it was like when it was full of people. But the empty houses were sometimes empty in strange ways. Dunno how the people left or why, but sometimes you'd come across a room that seemed like it was just about ready for something, like set out for supper with all the fixins except the water had dried up and the food was turned to stone and dust from thousands and thousands of days of neglect. Walkin through them houses, I got to know what life was like Before. Pictures and things; you'd be surprised at how pretty Before was, how blue and green the world was, how fat and handsome the people were, not thin and hungry like us.

“And other times, there were other strange things...”

“Like what?” Furiosa asked.

“Some places...” The Ace frowned, staring off into the black shadows of the distant night. “There was a place, many, many klicks out. I don't remember how long it took to get there, but it was a long time. Couple days, at least. A big ruin of glass and rusting steel and you could see where the old roads were underneath the mess. Mum took us there once to see it because she wanted to show us where the Immorta had come down upon the World.”

Breaths hissed all around, and Furiosa shivered.

“Did you see it? For truth?” Tran's voice was barely a whisper.

The Ace stared at his black-stained hands. “Yeah. Melted glass. Melted steel. Melted stone. There were places where the shadows of people and things Before had burned onto the ground from the Immorta's fiery visage. Bringer of death, destroyer of worlds. Creator of the waste.” The Ace interlaced his fingers into the V8. “Turner of the World Engine. May we never face her wrath again.”

Looking around, peering from beneath her eyelashes, Furiosa could see the others doing the same, folding their hands together, and she mimicked their piety without feeling it.

“Walking through this place, this place where the Immorta had kissed the Earth so very lightly with her lips, it seemed that every handspan, every fingerlength of the place was teeming with death. Ghosts, unsure of their death, un-Witnessed, un-Lived. Ain't no one to Witness if everyone dies in one fiery breath,” the Ace explained. “So that place...I'd rather not remember it if I could, every breeze whisperin ghosts and every step cracklin with glass and bone and the grave of thousands, but it's what Mum said was important to remember. That the Immorta could choose to destroy us, the way she destroyed the world Before. But that for so many tens of thousands of days, her hand has been stayed, so we honor and respect her.”

All were silent for a long time, huddling closer to the warmth of the lanterns as the cold breath of the waste sighed around them. 

Finally, the Ace broke the quiet. “Course, maybe I don't remember it quite right. That was a long time ago.”

“It's- it's always interesting to hear about stories from a long time ago,” Coil said, managing a smile. “Often, I've wondered...” But then he noticed Furiosa. “Lancer, you look like you have something to say.”

“I...I do.” Furiosa said. “I know a lot of stories from a long time ago.” 

“Oh? Coil, your Lancer is full of surprises. Do tell.” Tran leaned forward, curious.

“The way I learned this story, it was ancient even in the days Before.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a woman. And she was a powerful being. A goddess. Maybe like the Immorta in a way. She was kind to those who treated her well, but she had a terrible aspect too. But that part's not really important. What's important is that she went down into the land of the dead.”

“Valhalla?” Dart asked.

“No,” Furiosa said, gathering her thoughts. “Some place else. Some place...where the dead merely sleep, silent and dreamless in the dark earth.”

“Why did she go there?” Coil wondered.

“To retrieve her love,” Furiosa said, and she noticed that he began to twist his dust wrap between his fingers, fidgeting. 

“So...the goddess went down into the earth, mantled with her shroud of feathers, feathers so fine that they were almost like dust, light upon her shoulders And as she descended into darkness, the gatekeepers of the land of the dead demanded payment at every turn. So she gave up everything of true value that she had. Her jewels, her gown. Her crown of stars and the halo of the moon. Even the hair upon her head and the color of her flashing eyes and the lovely blackness of her skin.

“Finally, all she had left was her cloak of feathers. And in the darkness, with only the faded glow of her divinity to guide her, she wandered among the sleeping dead, looking for her love.”

“Did she find it?” Dart asked.

“Eventually.” Furiosa nodded. “Eventually, as she walked among the sleepers, careful to tread lightly in order not to wake them, she found her love; the mother of her children, the one stolen from her by jealous bridegroom Death. And the goddess took her love in her arms, drawing her up to kiss her cold, white lips.”

“Did it wake her? Like the sleeping princess...” The Ace wondered.

“No. But she could feel just faintly the breath of her sleeping lover along her cheek. So the goddess took her love up in her strong arms, to carry her out of the land of the dead. But she was stopped at the gates.”

“She didn't have anything to give the gatekeepers anymore.”

“No.” Furiosa sighed. “She had nothing to pay the ransom. And so she was trapped.”

“But she had to get out, right?” 

“No, Dart. She had descended into darkness of her own will, following her love to the grave. So they could do nothing to save her.” Furiosa hugged herself, and glanced over at Coil, whose fingers had stopped moving. His head was bowed, and his hands were tangled in his dust wrap.

“It's a dark story,” the Ace shook his head. “Before's full of 'em. Never heard that one though.”

“Speaking of dark stories...I heard this one from the Imperator,” Tran announced.

“Acosta?” Furiosa asked.

“No, another one.” Tran said with a sly smile, and Dart gave him a weary look. 

“Braggart.”

“Just because some of us can catch the eye of a certain someone whose duties otherwise keep him to the Immortan's Tower doesn't mean that you're not fully appreciated and admired,” Tran said to Dart, and Furiosa wondered what it was they were talking about.

“Old news,” Coil said, gesturing briskly. “Have at it, Tran. It's getting late. We should get bedded down soon.”

“Right. Well, there's this tale of the un-Witnessed that I've heard. It's a forbidden story, or so I was told.”

Dart shivered, and Tran put his arm around his Lancer's shoulders, drawing him close.

“Ever wonder why sometimes a perfectly healthy War Boy, a full-life with no lumps suddenly falls ill? With no signs of sickness on his body, no coughing, no night fevers. Just suddenly begins to fade and fade until he's up in the infirmary dying soft? Well, I know why.

“Heard this story long ago, from a person who I won't name; I don't think he'd appreciate me putting his name about...”

“As if we all don't already know which Imperator you're talking about,” Dart muttered.

“Hush, Lancer. Now, the story goes that back in the early days, when Drivers and Lancers were a new thing, a Driver lost his Lancer to the Fury Road. Of course, we all know that's not a strange occurrence; things happen, it's nothing anyone can do about it. Sometimes the Road Warriors are just too fast, sometimes it's just an unlucky day.”

“How'd the Lancer die?” Dart asked.

“Oh, in the worst possible way,” Tran's voice lowered. “He died un-Witnessed.”

Beside her, Coil tensed, as though ready to stand up and leave, but the Ace set his hand on Coil's shoulder firmly.

Tran continued: “They were riding the Fury Road. Somehow the Lancer lost his grip; they say it was a bad weld on the lancer's basket, or maybe an innate structural failure, but whatever the case, he went down in Buzzard territory without a word, and by the time the Driver realized his Lancer was gone, it was too late; the Lancer had been captured and killed by the Buzzards.”

A mutter went up around the War Boys, and the Ace said something sharply under his breath that Furiosa didn't hear clearly.

“When the Driver returned to the Citadel, he was stricken with guilt and grief. After all, this was his Lancer, his best mate. And in one moment of carelessness, he had lost his closest partner, the War Boy that slept at his side, worked at his side, and knew both him and his car the best. So he did everything that was decent in that sort of situation; he put on mourning, and he found a new Lancer.

“But the un-Witnessed are thirsty; their ghosts walk the purgatory of existence between the living world and the dead, and before long, the Driver began acting strangely. Having no thought for anyone else but his dead Lancer, he didn't bother trying to be a good mate to his new Lancer. He didn't try to make certain his Lancer slept by his side. Sometimes he would even leave his crewmate alone in dangerous situations, forgetting to keep eyes on. Eventually, his new Lancer started wondering what was wrong with his Driver. He noticed his Driver was losing flesh, cinching his belt tighter. After long, dusty runs when everyone was scrubbing down, he noticed his Driver was growing sallow beneath his trousers, the healthy, ruddy glow of his skin going as pale as his white.

“The new Lancer wondered; why was it that his Driver was growing so weak and weary? Why was it that he was so tired all the time as though he weren't sleeping? Was his Driver coming down with an invisible ailment?

“One night, troubled with his worries and unable to sleep, the Lancer kept his eyes on, pondering the situation. In the darkness of the second quarter of the night, when there was no more than a sickle moon, he saw his Driver slip out from beside him and leave without his boots.

“So the Lancer did the same thing; he followed, his bare feet upon the cold, rough stone of the warren, and stepping lightly, he followed the Driver into the shops, five seconds behind so as not to give his position away.

“Sneaking up into the darkness of the shops, the Lancer paused in the doorway. There stood his Driver in the embrace of another War Boy. And you would think that that was it; the Lancer should have known that his Driver was seeing someone else on the sly. That would explain everything so neatly, the sleepy mornings, the unhealthy pallor, the lack of interest in being mates. But the Lancer wondered; was that the sound of Aqua-Cola? Engine oil? There was a wet, slick sound of dripping and when the Lancer leaned into the doorway of the shop, his nose twitched, smelling the copper scent of blood.

“But in his fury, the Lancer ignored the signs of warning, of danger, that extra sense all good War Boys should have. Angry, the Lancer stepped forward to confront his rival. But what do you think he saw instead?”

“A ghost?” 

Tran shot Dart a withering look.

“Yes, Dart.” Tran sighed expansively. “A ghost. The Lancer saw his tear-stained Driver in the bloody embrace of a half-eaten War Boy. And the War Boy was nothing but a head, arms, and half a torso, his entrails dangling, butchered and torn alive by hungry Buzzards. His crewmate had come back from the purgatory of the un-Witnessed to haunt the Driver, and the Driver, loving his former Lancer too much, had been letting the un-Witnessed specter slowly drain him of life, of the will to live, of the desire to move on with his new and handsome young--”

“Enough!” Coil glared at Tran. “Tran, if you have something to say to me, you should say it to my face.”

“Haven't I?” Tran said mildly, unperturbed. “Tell me, Coil; do you know any ghost stories?”

“I don't believe in ghosts,” Coil snapped, and he stood up, walking away quickly.

“Better go after him,” Tran suggested to Furiosa, and picking up the lantern, she stumbled to her feet, following after Coil.

 

“The nerve of that cocky, sadistic, Buzzard-loving...who does he think he is?” Coil muttered to himself, pacing the darkness beside the FDK. Furiosa brought the lantern over, and set it down on the ground between them. Strange shadows were thrown up by the moving flame of the lantern, and his face was terrible with anger.

“Tran's never lost a crewmate,” Coil continued. “He couldn't understand. That's why he told that horrible story. It's not even true; I've heard so many different versions of it. There's even one where the Lancer who spies upon the Driver and the ghost is the Ace. I asked the Ace about it once and he laughed so hard he almost made himself sick.”

“Coil?”

“What?” Coil snarled, and Furiosa flinched from his anger.

Coil pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and it seemed that the anger suddenly drained from him, leaving him limp. He took a long, shuddering breath. “Lancer, that was uncalled for. I'm sorry; it's not your fault. It's mine and mine entirely. I...shouldn't have left you alone.”

“No, I was fine, really...”

“No. Jackals and villains all around. If you had been lost or stolen...” Coil ran his hands over his head, and there was an anguished sound of frustration deep in his throat. “I don't know what I would have done. No, Tran was right. The Ace too. I failed you.”

Not knowing what to say, Furiosa said nothing.

Coil crossed his arms, leaning against the cold metal frame of the FDK. “I'm sorry, Furiosa. I haven't been good to you.”

“You haven't done anything bad...” 

“Not doing anything bad is not the same as being good to you.” Coil offered her his hand, and hesitantly, she took it.

He drew her close, and put his arm around her, lightening his touch when she tensed beneath him.

His eyes were distant when he began to talk, and she wondered exactly who he was speaking to; if it was her or someone else.

“I'll always remember that day, until I die. I was in the central shop when they brought Win back. Spent that morning looking for him, until finally someone who knew told me he had went out with the daily patrol. So I did my usual day of work, and then begged off the last few minutes to meet the lifts that were up the patrol.

“I expected that we'd eat together that night. That we'd sleep side-by-side in the nest like usual. I had been embroidering a black kerchief for him; he liked the look of the ones the Imperators wear and I found something similar without being too close to the Imperators' gear, and I thought I'd do some extra work on it, to make it just for him. But then when I saw him...”

Coil closed both arms around her, and drew a deep breath that she could feel shivering through her. Hesitantly, she put one hand lightly on his back, feeling the shift of his muscles under her palm.

“He was already cold.” Coil murmured against her ear. “Stiff. Not human anymore, like a figure made from ceramic and painted to look like a War Boy. And the wound that went through his neck had left him soaked through with blood, and the blood was everywhere, dried black to his skin, flaking off at the slightest touch. I didn't even recognize him at first, until I saw the shop cloth on his belt that I had given him. He wasn't...he wasn't my Win anymore. Just another corpse, ready to go up to the farms and be tilled into the soil.”

Furiosa put her other hand on Coil's back, embracing him lightly. His skin felt cold to her, so careful not to rub off his white, she chafed her hand over his broad back, trying to warm him up.

“All my life, I thought I'd be the one taking a bullet for him, and here he was, gone without me and in the worst possible way.”

“But he was Witnessed, wasn't he? I heard...”

“You heard what people want me to think.” Coil took a deep breath, and let her go. “Sorry, Lancer. It's not your responsibility to carry my problems. Say, it's getting late. We should go bed down for the night.”

“Coil.”

“Hmm?” Coil looked down at her, curious.

“I'm sorry about your Driver. I'm sorry for your loss. I wish...there was something I could do for you.”

“No, there's nothing to be sorry for, nothing you can do. Tran's right; I need to move on.” Coil's hands closed into tight fists briefly. “I'm letting him kill my friendship with you even before we can be friends.”

“You mean Tran? He can be a little rough, but I don't think he's trying to kill anyone's friendship...”

“No. Not Tran. He's been a good mate for a long time. Tran doesn't mean any harm; he just doesn't try to soften his blows. I meant Win.” Coil pressed the back of his hand to his eyes, stemming the tears. “Win would be angry and ashamed of me if he knew I still mourned him like this so many days on. All right, all right. I'm sorry. I can't help it. Win, I can't do this alone.” 

Silently, Furiosa took his other hand, as the tears cut through Coil's white.

“I know the story. Everyone does. Don't get too attached to your crewmate. Don't fall into that trap.” Coil caught up his shop cloth and wiped at his eyes. “Makes you weak, is what they always say. But sometimes...”

“Sometimes it can't be helped. It's terrible losing someone you love,” Furiosa said softly.

“Yes.” Coil let Furiosa take the shop cloth from him, and dab at his tears where they had streaked through the white.

“Come on, Driver. Let's get some sleep. Not that I can, not after the Ace's story.”

“That's the stuff of nightmares. High-octane nightmare fuel.”

“I wonder what his dreams are like.”

“Better not ask.”

 

In the comforting warmth inside the FDK, Coil settled on the driver's seat and extinguished the lantern.

Furiosa spread the blanket, careful to make sure that Coil had enough to be covered too.

“Are you...okay, Coil?”

“Sure.” In the darkness, she could hear him sigh. “Sorry, Furiosa. I don't know what came over me.”

“Bad memories. Next time we shouldn't tell stories like that in the dark.”

“Yeah.”

“Coil. Do you...would it be okay if we...” And beneath the blanket, before she could even finish her thought, Coil's hand had found hers, gripping it lightly.

“Sure.” He gave her hand a squeeze, drawing it close to him, and she could feel her knuckles brush against the branded spiral whorls on his chest.

“Oh. No, I meant... Um.” Furiosa paused, and then the words rushed out in a torrent. “Do you think there's enough room down here for you to sleep too?”

“Probably, if you don't mind.”

“I don't mind. I mean, this time I don't mind.” And she moved to give him room, so that they were lying on their sides, close together on the blanket-covered floor of the FDK.

“Reminds me...” Coil began, and then he stopped as he tucked the blanket around her shoulders.

“Reminds you of what?”

“Oh, it's nothing. Go to sleep, Lancer.”

“Good night, Coil.” And briefly, it seemed like his proximity meant that she could never possibly fall asleep, but then she did, sleeping deep and dreamlessly, falling into the darkness of her own heart.

 

*****

**Meanwhile, in the Citadel...**

Without the Ace around, the substitute trainer had given up on trying to get the War Pups to sleep, compromising on getting them settled down with boots off and blankets on. The trainer snored at the edge of the nest while beneath the covers the War Pups whispered amongst themselves.

“Okay. So then his Lancer comes into the shop...” Morsov whispered.

“So what? That's not scary at all,” Slit muttered.

“Didn't I mention he was dead?”

“No?” Nux blinked.

“So he's dead. And the dead Lancer is bleeding out all over the floor.”

“How's he bleeding if he's dead?” Slit shook his head. “Dead men don't bleed.”

“Well, he's cut in half. And a ghost. And...”

“Ghosts don't bleed,” Nux interrupted. “I have it on good authority that they're very clean.”

“Your story's mediocre, Morsov,” Slit said venomously.

“Sorry, Morsov. I have to agree with Slit this time.”

Morsov glared at his fellow cohort from under their shared blanket, the darkened sockets of his eyes even darker with the deep shadows thrown by the flashlight. “Then I'll tell a better story.”

“Ha, I'd like to see you try.”

“Then shut up and listen, Slit. And don't pee the nest, because this is a true story.” Morsov's voice lowered, and both Nux and Slit found themselves straining to listen.

“One night I was running messages after supper; the War Boy who sent me gave me half a food bar to run a message over to the Immortan's Tower after dark.”

“I didn't know you could go there after dark,” Nux sounded skeptical.

“Normally not, but...it wasn't a message to the Imperators or anything. It was to the Doof quarters. To Coma.”

Nux shivered; he had never seen the young man who was part of the Immortan's retinue, but he had heard about the eyeless musician and his grisly mask.

“You know how the bridges whistle when the wind picks up? That night it was really windy, and not only did the bridges whistle, but their chains clanked in the stiff breeze, and it was like the sound of a dozen Ploughboys tearing up the waste laid over with a hundred War Boys all whistling a different tuneless note, all at once.

“I ran across as fast as I could; I didn't want to hear that horrible sound. I was lucky the bridge guards let me pass right away when I told them who sent me and who I was supposed to send a message to, because I didn't want to stay anywhere near the bridges.

“The Doof quarters are in the lower warren in the Immortan's Tower. I hadn't ever been there before, so I didn't know what to expect. The Drummers were nowhere to be seen. It was empty and quiet. Just the electrics running and the faint sound of the generator.

“So I walked in, looking room by room. There are a lot of little rooms that branch off from the main hall, but they were all empty.

“Then I heard a noise. For a second, I thought it was the whistling wind, following me inside, maybe coming in through an airshaft, but then slowly, I realized it was music. 

“It was the sound of a guitar, a real wooden guitar, and then a man's voice singing. It sounded really shine, shinier than anything I've heard before. I could have stayed all night listening. But then another voice joined in, and it was a strange kind of voice that I hadn't heard before, lighter and sweeter, with a sort of trembling, shaky quality. I can't really describe it that well, but the two voices joined together, so I started making my way closer to hear it better, until I saw Coma's shadow in his room, swaying along to the beat of the music. I stayed out of sight, just listening, until their voices faded away to nothing.

“Then I stepped forward to give my message to Coma and--” Morsov shut his mouth with a gulp, and the other two War Pups could feel his trembling through the blanket.

“What did you see?”

“Morsov, don't hold out on us...” 

“He...he was alone,” Morsov blurted out the words uncontrollably. “Completely by himself. There was nobody in the room with him. Absolutely no one. And no one could have been hiding in there either; the bed was flush to the wall and it was a stone bench like they have in the infirmary. But the...that thing, his mask. It was stretched on a metal head, like the way you'd hang up a dust wrap on the back of the Driver's seat, and I swear by the Immorta that I could see a pair of lips turning up into a smile in the empty space where the mouth would have been. Except it was just smooth metal but I swear it smiled at me and it wasn't just a trick of the light...”

“Oh, rust...” Nux whispered, shivering despite the warmth of the blanket.

“Morsov. That's a stupid story,” Slit whispered, but he moved closer to Nux, putting his trembling arm tight around the younger War Pup's shoulders.

“It's true,” Morsov hugged himself. “All of it.”

There was a long silence punctuated only by the sound of sleeping breaths and the snoring cadence of the substitute trainer. The three War Pups studied one another, as still as though they were collectively holding their breaths.

Finally, Nux broke the silence.

“Morsov. What was the message? Who sent it?”

“I'm glad you asked, Little Nux. It was from the Imperator Acosta to Coma,” Morsov said gravely. “And it said...'Nux and Slit are giant stupid trash babies for believing such a silly nonsense story.'” Morsov giggled, choking back his laughter.

“Morsov! That's not funny!” Nux hissed.

“You stupid, filth-brained son of a Buzzard! You half-scared me to death!”

“Slit, those are fighting words! You take that back!”

“Never!”

**Author's Note:**

> For Geoduck, who wanted to a story about War Boys telling ghost stories, and who deserves to get to read something complete for once. Thanks to Tfuriosa for prereading.
> 
> This is set sometime after _Tenera_.
> 
> Lamia, in the sense of a vampire or succubus.
> 
> Tran and Dart are a rival team to Coil and Furiosa in _Vulnera_.
> 
> Furiosa's story is roughly based on the Descent of Ishtar.
> 
> Tran's story is inspired by [the art of](http://ulsae1995.tumblr.com/post/134405951220/hey-your-makeup-is-being-removed-why-are-you) Ulsae1995.


End file.
